The Noble House of Black
by Rosefeather
Summary: Harry takes a tour through his memories.


The Noble House of Black

Harry Potter stood in the doorway of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, as every memory he had of the place washed over him.

Tonks, with her clumsy ways, knocking over the troll's leg, and Snape, who had walked through this door countless times, a loyal Order member, though Harry wouldn't have imagined it at the time.

His godfather, Sirius, giving him a package, and a hug, and telling him if there was a problem with Snape, just use that to contact me…

Harry took a step into the hall. It was quiet. The lack of people was strange, in the wake of the War, he always seemed to have someone around him now.

Hermione and Ron had wanted to accompany him, but he told them he needed some time alone, a place to think.

As Harry took another few steps, he suddenly regretted that decision. He wished for their comfort and support right now, but he also knew that facing these painful memories must be done, and it felt right to do it alone.

Somehow Harry made it to the door of the kitchen. He descended into the dark room. Harry closed his eyes, and memories hit him in quick succession:

_A house elf is sobbing, a necklace clutched to his chest. _

_Mundungus Fletcher is cowering, Kreacher standing above him with a pan clutched in his grasp. _

_Hermione and Ron's impromptu celebration for becoming Prefects. _

_The night Sirius almost let lip Lord Voldermort's secret weapon, a weapon that would make him stronger than last time…_

Harry opened his eyes to see the deserted kitchen, but Sirius' face was still burned in his mind's eye, it was the desperate look in Sirius' eyes – he wanted to tell Harry what the weapon was, wanted Harry to figure it out, but Molly Weasley cut in.

Harry sighed. What sense was there in wishing he had been better informed of the weapon? What sense was there in wishing he had tried harder at occlumency? What sense was there, trying to wish Sirius alive again?

Slowly, Harry turned and climbed up the stairs quietly to the hallway. Harry made his way up to the Drawing room.

_Pixies. _

_The Family Tree. The burn marks, where those who had shamed the Black family name had been erased from the minds of the pure members…_

_And Harry, staring at his own dead body lying beside Molly Weasley…_

How odd, it was, to think, that three years later he would willingly walk to his death in the Forbidden Forest. How ironic, to know that the Death eaters and Lord Voldermort had _believed _Narcissa Malfoy, didn't question her loyalty, didn't double check. They didn't question that the still body before them was alive.

And Harry, remembering back to seeing his own body, realized that this was what the Death Eaters would have seen.

How strange.

Harry exited the room, and found his and Ron's old room.

_Phineas, with a message from Dumbledore, to stay, just stay. _

_Yelling at Hermione and Ron. Because how could they understand, really? _

_The Prefect badge gleamed and Ron held it, a stunned look on his face. _

Regret. Why did he yell at Hermione and Ron? Why did he do that to them?

And why did they continue to give him second chances? They let him get away with that fit?

Sometimes Harry felt they were too good to be true.

… … …

_Lily Potter's signature on a piece of parchment, and a photo of her laughing. Severus Snape's tears flowed. _

_Harry read his mother's letter, touched the words. Bittersweet. Oh, so bitter. _

Sirius' room looked the same as the day he had found his mother's letter. Same pictures, same mess. Standing in this room, Harry felt pulled in two directions. He felt closer to his godfather standing here, yet farther away, because of Sirius' death.

More bittersweet thoughts.

_A large black dog rears up to put his paws on Harry's chest, Molly glares disapprovingly._

_Standing in the Shrieking Shack, staring at Sirius Black, whom he hated, while Sirius tried to explain his innocence and his revenge… What a night that was. _

_Sirius' smile was still on his face when Bellatrix screamed the Killing Curse and sent him through the veil. Harry felt disbelief, as he watched his godfather simply…fade away. _

This house was filled with memories of the Order. Albus Dumbledore had helped lead the Order here.

Harry sighed as he thought of his old Headmaster's wisdom and kindness. What a loss he had been to the Wizarding World, and to Harry.

Harry could still remember Dumbledore falling, falling from the tower where Severus Snape had killed him.

Harry exited his godfather's room, headed downstairs again.

He thought of Professor McGonagall, fighting for Hogwarts, battling Snape in that corridor.

And what about Hagrid, Harry's dear and kind half giant friend? And Buckbeak, Harry's Hippogriff.

Harry, amused, thought back to Norbert, Hagrid's pet dragon. Harry smiled at the memory of he and Hermione lugging the crate with the baby dragon up to the tower to hand it over to Charlie's friends, and the resulting trouble he ended up in.

Harry found himself standing at the front door, and he turned to face the inside of the house.

All of the memories he had here, they were still here. That was a simple fact. But examining them again, he saw them clearer. Maybe he'd restore this house someday. Maybe he'd live here again someday. Maybe he'd come back with Hermione and Ron someday.

But Harry Potter would move forward in his life, past the gloom that still lay thick in this house, past the souls of the dead.

And perhaps then, and only then, all will be well.

**(A/N: Hey! So, a sort of walk down memory lane Harry Potter fic! What do you think? Like it? Hate it? Well, I'll never know if you don't tell me! Hehe, well, hope you enjoyed! **

**Also, I apologize if there are any errors with the spelling of the names, etc. I'm a bad writer for not fact checking my work, but there you go. Many apologies! **

**~ Rosefeather) **


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